by Molloy, Ruby
“Doesn’t mean he left or that he didn’t do it. He was cut up about you and you hear stories of guys harassing their exes all the time. Has he been in contact since you saw him last?”
“No.” My legs are crossed and I hate that I’ve lied to Mason, but if he knew about the texts he’d confront Sid. And though Sid’s heavier, that extra weight is fat and he’s no fighter. Mason would stomp all over him, maybe do some damage, and with his past ... Yeah, no way am I telling Mason about those texts. I’ll talk to Sid, make sure everything’s okay and if I have any doubts, that’s when I’ll tell Mason. He’ll freak out, but I’ll take that over him get into trouble.
“That leaves one other unless you have any other ideas?”
“One other?” I don’t miss his almost imperceptible flinch. “You know who’s doing this?”
“Maybe. Shit, I don’t know.”
“Are you going to tell me? I mean, shouldn’t I know, for my own safety?”
“It’s not that simple.” He takes another sip from his beer, his hand flexing around the bottle as if it’s a living thing that’s struggling to be set free. “The guy went to ground years ago. We think he’s changed his name, probably taken on someone else’s identity.”
Laughter bursts from my throat. This is Mason, after all, not some secret agent covertly working for MI5. Fearful I’m about to learn he’s crazy, I ask carefully, “We?”
“Jack, Tag and me.”
“Mason, you’re starting to freak me out. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Fletcher.”
“Fletcher?” The name is familiar. I search my memory but come up blank. I’m about to ask who he is when it hits me. “Is that the teacher you attacked?”
“That’s him.”
I blink and lean back on my stool. “I don’t understand. He doesn’t know me. Why would he be sending me messages?”
“When he was laying on the floor, his ribs busted, and his face swollen, he kept repeating the same thing over and over. ‘I’m gonna get you for this’, that’s all he kept saying. And it took a lot for him to say that because his face was beaten to a pulp. The guy was a psycho, Frankie.” He pauses, and I know there’s more coming. Something he’s psyching himself to tell me. “He was also Tag’s stepdad.”
Mason beat up Tag’s stepdad! I’m shocked, freaked out even, until I remember that Tag and Mason are still friends. I force myself to stay calm and to hear out the rest of Mason’s story.
“He was a big guy, always wanting to be the centre of attention, competitive to the point where it was childish. His classes were fun, but he didn’t have a stop button and he’d always be overstepping the mark. The day before my eighteenth birthday, he gave a physics demonstration that went wrong and this kid started taunting Fletcher. It was all in jest, the usual horseplay, but Fletcher pulled this kid from his chair, and we were laughing coz we thought it was all a big joke, but then he whacks the kid over the head with a ruler. Only it’s metal and he struck him with the thin edge. The kid started bleeding, like it was full-on flowing down his face, and suddenly it wasn’t fun anymore, it was like a fucking horror movie, and we were thinking, what the fuck? Fletcher said something to the kid, and the kid looked petrified and went and sat down like nothing had happened. It was creepy as hell.
“That night, me, Jack and Tag started celebrating my birthday early. We got Tag’s cousin to buy us some beers and we sat in Tag’s room, drinking and swapping stories, talking about school and everything we had planned for our future. How we were going to join the army.” He huffs out a laugh. “Didn’t go to plan, least not for me. Prison and Tam having Josh meant that wasn’t ever going to happen for me, but Tag and Jack signed up and applied for the SAS. They both got accepted. That was our dream at sixteen, to become elite soldiers.
“Anyway, a few drinks in and we were pissed, total lightweights. I brought up Fletcher, how his behaviour in class seemed twisted. That’s when Tag told us. Made us promise not to tell a soul.”
Mason lifts his head, his eyes over bright with the memories. “I’m telling you this now because I spoke with Tag and checked he was okay with me telling you.”
I nod and Mason takes another sip of his beer, the tattoos on his inner forearm vivid under the kitchen lights.
“Fletcher was a fucking psycho. Tag told us how he wouldn’t just beat him, he’d take pleasure from Tag’s pain and make videos of his cuts and bruises afterwards. He told us how Fletcher liked to play mind games, how he’d delay the beatings so Tag wouldn’t know when they were coming. He’d be watching TV and suddenly he’d be on the floor, or he’d be walking down the stairs and Fletcher would shove him from behind.
“Me and Jack argued that Tag should get as far away as possible or at least report what was going on, but Tag told us Fletcher had threatened to harm his mum if he ever told. Said he’d beat her so bad Tag wouldn’t recognise her. Tag’s plan was to enlist when he turned eighteen. That wasn’t for another nine months and he made us swear to keep our silence.
“Next morning I’d already decided his plan was bullshit and I was all ready to tell him so. I knocked for him on my way to school, same as I always did, only he didn’t answer. I knew straight off something wasn’t right. I started pounding on the door and when no-one answered I walked down the side and round the back to the patio doors. Tag’s mum was sitting there, staring at me through the glass, her cheek busted, her lips so swollen and raw they didn’t resemble lips anymore. The front of her dressing gown was red with blood and the way she was cradling her arm against her body, I knew it was broken. I started banging on the glass and she just moved her gaze to the TV like she was comatose.
“I smashed a window to get in and I went looking for Tag. He was lying on his bed, his face black and swollen. I thought he was dead. I thought that motherfucker had killed him ‘til he started coughing up blood. I called an ambulance, stayed with Tag until it arrived, and then I went looking for Fletcher. I found him teaching a class, larking around as if he hadn’t just beaten his family to a pulp. I laid into him, punch after punch, knocking him to the floor, kicking him until the fucker begged for mercy. When I was done, when I’d paid him back for everything he’d done to Tag all those years ... that’s when I realised I’d just fucked up my life and I knew there was no way back.” He chokes out a laugh. “And that was before I discovered Tam was pregnant.
“I knew I wasn’t going to get off lightly. I could have killed Fletcher. I’d smashed his cheekbone to smithereens and kicked his ribs until they punctured his lung. Fuck, if any one of those kicks had made contact with his temple, he’d have been dead and I’d still be inside. As it was, I was charged with GBH with intent.”
It’s difficult to reconcile the Mason I know with the eighteen year old boy who wreaked such violence. I’ve known all along that he beat up Fletcher, but hearing it from his own mouth somehow makes it more real. “Do you regret what you did?”
His mouth tilts in a cheerless smile. “There’s two answers to that question. Do I regret hurting him? No, not for a single minute. If you’d been there, if you’d heard Tag tell of the things he did ...” He clears his throat. “No, I have no regrets, or remorse, on that front. Do I regret the fallout from what I did? Yeah, every single day of my life. But you asked me the wrong question. What you should have asked is if I’d do the same thing again.”
“Would you?”
His bleak eyes stare into mine, reinforcing the words that follow. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Not because of remorse or because Fletcher didn’t deserve it, but seeing how that affected my family, my friends, and Tam ... seeing how she suffered, no way in hell would I do that again. I was selfish then, attacking Fletcher without appreciating the consequences. Still selfish now, but I know I’d lose you if I ever did something like that again. And I’m not going to lose you, Frankie.”
“You’re the least selfish person I know, Mason. You gave up Josh, placing his and your sister’s happiness before
your own. You lost two years of your life for Tag.”
“Don’t try and make me out to be something I’m not, Frankie.”
“I’m not. I know you’re not perfect. But your imperfections are part of who you are and I love you. Which means I love your imperfections.”
I smile and lean forward until our lips brush. His hand strokes my neck before laying heavy against my nape as he kisses me with light pressure. When he draws away he holds my gaze and smiles crookedly. “Now you know all there is to know about me. It’s not pretty and I’m not proud of it, but I’m also not ashamed. It’s part of my life, part of who I am, and you needed to hear that. But I wanted you to get to know me first, without that getting in the way.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
He huffs out a breath. “But there was a reason for telling you tonight. And that reason is Fletcher. I’m not saying he’s behind the messages. It’s unlikely he is. But I wanted you to know, in case ...”
He’s unable to finish and I know his thoughts are dark. I know tonight has taken its toll. I step down from the stool and take his hand. “Come to bed,” I say.
Our lovemaking is slow and tender, more about giving than taking, Mason rolling to his back a signal for me to straddle his hips and sink down. I ride him slowly, enjoying the ripples of sensation, feeling the need escalate until my fingers are gripping the sheets as I lie over him, his hand stroking my nipple, the other threading through my hair as he holds me down for a sensuous kiss.
When it comes, my orgasm steals my breath, my mouth open and rounded as the intensity grows almost painful. Mason rolls me to my back and begins to thrust his hips, hard and fast, his earlier patience forgotten as he powers through, finishing on a groan that unleashes warm breath against my neck. He relaxes into me, giving me his weight, his chest heavy against my ribs, his hips equally so cradled between my thighs.
“Mason?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do you think Fletcher might be targeting me? I mean, if he has a grudge, surely it’s against you?”
Mason withdraws slowly and rolls to his side, bringing me with him so that we’re facing each other. “Maybe because he knows you mean something to me.”
I’m silent for a while, absorbing his words, letting them warm me from the inside. “Do you really think it might be him?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ll contact Jack and Tag tomorrow, maybe call in a favour or two from a couple of guys I know.”
“These guys wouldn’t happen to be ex-prison friends would they?”
“It’s all good,” he says and I know that’s all he’s going to say on the subject when he twists to his back. I follow, and rest my head on his chest, too tired to reflect on this further.
“Night,” I say.
Mason kisses the top of my head. “Night, babe,” he whispers.
♥ TWENTY ♥
Life
Frankie
Caught up in wanting Mason, I slide my tongue against his one more time. Drawing back, I see his eyes are darker and there’s a sexy lilt to his mouth. Damn, I want more, but the lift is here and I take the opportunity to tuck my hand in his and squeeze. He only takes the lift when I’m with him. He says his heart doesn’t race quite so fast and his breathing is slower. When we reach the basement car park Jack is leaning up against Myrtle.
Our plans changed overnight after Mason lay awake, dwelling on the messages, his mind churning over who might be behind them. He wants someone with me at all times, so Jack’s staying at mine tonight. Mason has to work and I refuse to cancel my night in with the girls just because some crazy person thinks I’m a bitch. I’m not sure how Jack feels about this, but if I had to guess, I’d say he’d rather have his pubes ripped out with hot wax than spend his Saturday night with me and the girls.
I know Mason doesn’t want me to go. His hand won’t release mine and his head dips down for another kiss. “Be careful,” he says when the kiss is over. He traces my mouth with his thumb, pressing it in and rolling my bottom lip down before releasing me.
I sit behind the wheel and Jack takes the passenger seat. He looks ridiculous and uncomfortable in a space that’s designed for someone way less built. He’s quiet for Jack, not giving up a hello or a good morning. Giving Mason one last glance I steer Myrtle up the concrete ramp, watching from my rearview mirror as Mason heads towards the stairs.
The evening sun almost blinds me and I search for my sunglasses. This entails leaning across Jack and rummaging on the shelf directly in front of him. He removes my hand and places it back on the wheel before asking, “What are you looking for?”
“Sunglasses.”
He rummages through my things, and there are a lot of things in that small space. He finally pulls out a pair of oversized, purple tinted sunglasses and hands them to me.
“Thank you, Jack.”
“No problem.”
Tag’s normally the guy with few words, but I guess it’s Jack’s turn today. I glance his way and he feels my stare.
“You want to keep your eye on the road?”
Realising it’s not a suggestion but a command, I do as he says. Definitely not in a good mood. I don’t know him well. We’ve met a few times and on those occasions I liked him, but that was when he was being outgoing and friendly. I’m not sure what’s eating him today, but I do my best to be friendly.
“Mason said you’re ex-army.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you been out long?”
“Two years.”
“Really?” He doesn’t answer, but it’s a rhetorical question so I guess that’s okay. I try another. “Do you miss it?”
“No.”
I risk a second glance in his direction. His attention’s somewhere else and there’s a small frown between his low set brows. “You don’t seem very happy today, Jack.”
He emits a grunt.
“Are you pissed at me? Because if you are, I’m really sorry to drag you away from your plans. You probably had way better things lined up and Mason probably threatened all kinds of retribution if you didn’t stay at mine. He’s worried about those creepy messages.”
Jack’s green eyes don’t seem quite so harsh and maybe there’s even a hint of softness in their green depths. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Easier said than done, Jack. I feel bad. To make it up to you I’ll order your favourite pizza and you can have a vote on which movie we watch. How about that?”
“A vote? How many friends are you having over exactly?”
“Four; Ella, Nora, Kayla and Charlotte.” I glance over when I reach Kayla’s name and sure enough his eyes flicker. I knew it! Jack has a thing for Kayla!
“Four girls and one guy,” he says, stalling my thoughts. “Not sure I like those odds.”
“Well, when you put it like that ...”
“How about you choose the first movie and I get to choose the second?”
“Deal!”
“Great!” Now that the tension has eased off a little I take the opportunity to ask another question. “So is that why you were in a bad mood? Because you had to babysit me and my friends?”
“Not exactly. Today’s my birthday.”
“It is? Wow! Happy birthday!”
I catch his wince.
“What? You don’t like birthdays?”
“Who doesn’t like birthdays?! It’s just I had a night out planned and ...”
When he trails off I finish for him. “And now you’re spending it with a bunch of girls, eating pizza, and most likely watching a rom-com.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
We’re quiet for a while, until I say, “It’s not all doom and gloom. Kayla will be there.”
There’s a pause while Jack takes in my words. “That obvious, huh?”
“Yes and no. I mean, I’ve seen you looking at her and I’ve felt the vibes. Kayla’s a babe, and she’s funny and smart too, so it would be kind weird if you weren’t interested. What
I don’t get is why you haven’t made a move.”
“Coz she fucking hates me.”
“She does?” How come I don’t know this? I rack my brain and realise Kayla hasn’t spoken to me about Jack. Not once. I guess the clue is right there; being a natural born flirt Kayla’s normally all about the guys.
“I screwed up the first time we met.”
I frown, trying to remember. “How come I can’t remember?”
“It was months ago, that night you got home from hospital. You and Mace were talking in the kitchen, Carred and Tag were facing off and Nora and Ella were trying to cool things down. I got chatting to Kayla, acted like a dick, and she rightly shot me down.”
I may not have seen this happen, but I can picture it well enough. “Well, tonight’s your lucky night, Jack! In gratitude of you giving up your Saturday night, how about I work the Finnegan magic and try to smooth things over with Kayla?”
Jack’s mouth tilts into a grin. “Not sure that’s possible, but you do that and I’ll owe you big time.”
I return his grin. “I have a good feeling about this. Just don’t screw it up tonight, because knowing Kayla you won’t get another chance.”
From that point in Jack relaxes and the remainder of our journey is fun. I decide I like Jack and I’m in a good mood when I pull up in my parking space. I can’t wait to see Kayla’s reaction when she sees Jack is joining us.
There’s a small access road between the car park and the flats. We’re half way across, talking about Jack’s love of playing sport when I hear the roar of a car’s engine to my right. My vision is obscured by Jack and before I can lean forward to get a glimpse, Jack gives me a shove. I hear the sick thud of the car striking Jack before I hit the ground. Pain radiates down my entire right side, but already I’m on my feet, running towards Jack who’s lying motionless, his right leg twisted at an horrific angle, his face deathly pale. Already people are rushing over to help and the car that struck him has stopped just a few feet away. I scramble for my phone but it’s snatched from my hand and tossed to the floor. Sid is standing before me. His hand clamps hold of my wrist and he drags me towards the silver car. I scream and resist and two teens come running to my aid, but Sid takes a gun from his pocket and shoves it against my temple. “Back the fuck up!” Any hope of escape is gone as I watch my would be rescuers back away, palms up to show they’re defenceless.
